Duke of Lust (Sinful Dukes #3)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

“ P lease, Stephen. I ask only a few minutes, in your presence. There is nothing improper in my request.”

Frederick stood at the top of the steps to Colborne House where he had been met by Lord Emberly himself, evidently not wanting to even let the Duke of Heartwick inside the house this evening.

“Nothing improper? Frederick, you must be mad if you think it is proper for a single man of your character to turn up on my doorstep tonight and beg an audience with my sister who is to be married in the morning to Lord Darrington.”

Frederick fought down the urge to attempt barging past Stephen and into the house, calling aloud for Annabelle. Lord Emberly would doubtless have the footmen remove him unceremoniously from the property. No, Annabelle would not thank him for that scene, and it would be the cause of a serious rift that others in the family would rightly blame him for.

“I only want to know that Annabelle will be happy,” he pleaded again. “If I am assured of that, I will leave immediately. You have my word.”

“It is not your business whether Annabelle is happy or not, Frederick,” Stephen told him sternly but not without a touch of baffled compassion in his eyes.

Lord Emberly might believe that Frederick’s presence there was inappropriate and undesirable but he did not believe him to be vicious or otherwise ill-intended.

“Then let me tell her that herself, Stephen,” Frederick suggested. “Let Annabelle send me away herself.”

“Frederick, go home. Annabelle is tired and overwrought and I will not have her disturbed with your ramblings. Frankly, you look ill, or like you haven’t slept for a week. I will excuse your behavior on those grounds. If you really wish to judge Annabelle’s happiness then I suggest you come to the church tomorrow with our other family and friends and attend the wedding.”

“You leave me no choice, do you?” responded Frederick and backed away, descending the steps and pausing at the bottom to look up hopefully at the lighted windows of Colborne House.

There was, however, no sign of a young woman with red-gold curls and a rosebud mouth visible at any of them and nothing he could do to get to her.

“Will you at least tell Annabelle I called here tonight?” Frederick asked, although he already knew the answer. “Please? Let her know that I wanted to see her.”

“I will not, Frederick,” Stephen answered, standing firm. “Now, go home.”

“Here, let me do that,” said Duchess Sarah, picking up the budding white rose that Frederick had been fumbling with for his buttonhole, and fitting it neatly to his jacket. “You look very tired, Frederick.”

“I am,” he conceded, knowing that he could not hide his sleeplessness or emotional turmoil even though he had not told his stepmother of his fruitless visit to Colborne House last night. “Shall we go?”

His stepmother glanced at the clock which showed it was very early to be leaving for the wedding yet, but decided not to comment, just as she had not commented on the sound of horse and carriage leaving Heartwick Hall and then returning yesterday evening.

“Yes, I am ready,” she answered and took his arm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Oswald asked Annabelle kindly as they stood together outside the church doors. “If you don’t, jump back into your carriage and Stephen can take you home. I’ll go inside and make the perfect scene of a heartbroken lover, jilted at the altar. That should prevent any questions being asked about my unmarried state for at least another five years.”

Despite her low mood and nervousness, Annabelle could not help laughing at this proposition, drawing a puzzled glance from Stephen who was being conveniently detained in the street below by Captain Rawlings and Lady Meredith.

“Oh dear, what a thought! Poor Stephen. I can’t think how he would take that,” she chuckled. “He is already at sixes and sevens over my insistence on seeing you this morning. Breaking with traditions does not come easily to my brother and he had never heard of a bride and groom meeting directly before the wedding before.”

“Oh fiddlesticks! Let Stephen worry about himself for once,” Oswald tutted, patting her gloved hand. “You must think of yourself today, Annabelle. For example, your outfit is quite lovely. I hope you are pleased with it.”

“Yes, very much. It does suit me, doesn’t it? At least Stephen’s consternation over our meeting distracted him from focusing on my attire and I’ve had my way entirely with my dress today.”

For her wedding, Annabelle had chosen a cream silk suit from Madame Deveaux. Initially opposed to this idea, Stephen had softened after viewing plate sketches showing only the dress worn with its relatively modest matching jacket.

He had not seen the daring but elegant fit of the dress worn alone, its neckline cut to show off the wearer’s décolletage to maximum advantage, along with any jewels she might wear. In her hair, a few cream and yellow blush roses completed the simple grace of her toilette .

“You look astonishingly beautiful, Annabelle. In fact, I insist that we have your portrait taken in that very dress for posterity. I even know exactly where it should hang in the gallery at Darrington Hall. Those sapphires are perfection too. Are they a family heirloom?”

At this enthusiastic remark, Annabelle turned bright red, her fingers moving to her throat and protectively touching the silver-set sapphires hanging there. She remembered Myrtle’s strong disapproval that morning when she had insisted on wearing this necklace to her wedding. Annabelle had brooked no argument, feeling the need for some small piece of Frederick near her.

“They were…a present from someone,” she said, and swallowed. “If Stephen had noticed the necklace, he would likely not have allowed me to wear it.”

“Then I shall not say a thing more to draw attention to your necklace until after the ceremony when your jewels are no longer any of your brother’s concern. At Darrington Hall, you may wear whatever you wish.”

Oswald’s words were discreet but it came to Annabelle then that he likely knew exactly who had given her the necklace, and maybe even how she felt about the giver. Despite his open nature and good humor, Lord Darrington was a worldly man and it was probably naive for her to have assumed her feelings for Frederick were entirely a secret to him.

“You’ve been so understanding and so good to me, Oswald,” Annabelle marveled, with tears in her eyes. “For no reason at all too. Thank you. I was so nervous last night and that’s why I had to see you, but now I know that whatever happens, I have a true friend.”

“Yes, I will always be your friend,” Lord Darrington assured her staunchly, passing her his handkerchief to wipe her eyes. “Even if you do choose to leave me at the altar in there…”

Again, Annabelle could not help giggling through her tears as he invoked this ridiculous scenario a second time. Glancing down into the road, she saw suspicion as well as bafflement on Stephen’s face now.

“I can’t imagine what is going on in his head,” she said. “I suppose you and your party had best go inside now. We’ll wait five minutes and then follow. That’s the tradition, of course. The bride must be slightly late.”

“God forbid we break tradition,” Oswald remarked with merry irony, his hazel eyes dancing as he beckoned now to his sister and Jacob Rawlings. “What would the world come to?”

Annabelle stood to one side with Stephen as the three others entered the church ahead of them, her brother checking his watch, likely to time their entrance more precisely. Satisfied with whatever the device told him, Lord Emberly turned to his sister.

“What was all that about?” he inquired. “I was almost minded to refuse when you demanded to meet Lord Darrington here early. It seemed so very odd and unconventional, although not as bad as the Duke of Heartington turning up at Colborne Hall last night, wanting an interview with you…”

“Frederick was at Colborne House last night?” Annabelle gasped, seizing her brother’s arm, his question rendered irrelevant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you had enough concerns with the wedding. Duke Frederick is far too unconventional and free in his thinking. It is best that you put him from your mind now that you are to be Lady Darrington. God forbid that any scandal should attach itself to you after your marriage, any more than before.”

“You thought I had enough concerns?!” she berated him, even striking him on the arm with her cream and yellow bouquet, causing a flurry of petals to the ground. “They are my concerns, not yours! I realize now that my main objection to you is not that you don’t treat me like a human being, but that you don’t act like a human being yourself!”

“Control yourself, please, Annabelle!” Stephen tried to persuade her, trying to evade the wildly waving bouquet with only mixed success. “There are people in the street.”

“I don’t care!” she retorted but took two deep breaths and looked down at the now-uneven bouquet in her hand. “I don’t care about what those people think, or what you think of me.”

Horrified by her outburst but also highly conscious of time and social expectations, Stephen looked again at his watch and then cautiously approached Annabelle and her floral weapon.

“Another minute and then we should go in. I did not mean to hurt or upset you in anything I have done, Annabelle. Quite the contrary. Please believe that.”

Annabelle did believe him but that made matters worse rather than better. Frederick had tried to come to her last night, but to what purpose? She would never know now. Maybe he would not even be at the wedding after Stephen sent him away. What if he thought it had been done on her instruction?

There were too many questions and not enough time to even count them, never mind come to a view on there likely answers.

“It doesn’t matter, Stephen,” Annabelle said at last with weary determination and took his arm once more. “None of it matters any more. I’m about to get married.”

Frederick sat skulking behind a pillar at the back of the church, having escorted his stepmother to the front and seated her beside an older lady with an ear trumpet on the side for the bride’s family and friends. Duchess Sarah had not argued when he explained that he could not bear to have Annabelle see him and feared he could not control his face in front of others present.

Part of him had hoped that Annabelle would arrive early, against all tradition, and he might have some last chance to speak with her in the vestry or another quiet corner. A larger part of him knew this was entirely unrealistic and hopeless. Really he only wanted to hide here in the dark, better to cope with the ordeal ahead.

Tense, he shifted sharply in his seat when the church doors opened, but it was only Oswald Quince, his sister and his best man. They made their way to the front of the church, all smiles and greetings to those they passed in the pews. At least someone was going to enjoy the day, Frederick thought grimly.

Shortly after that, he began to catch faint snatches of voices through the wooden doors, likely not audible to those further inside the church and closer to the organ which was playing a quiet hymn. The voices were immediately recognizable to him as belonging to Annabelle and Stephen

Why didn’t you tell me..?

Frederick swallowed with pain at the distress in her voice even sounding so faintly. It seemed he had chosen the worst place to sit after all, at least for now.

…my concerns, not yours… you don’t act like a human being…

His heart beat faster in sympathy with her agitation.

I don’t care!

The pitch of her emotion was becoming too much for him. Frederick was almost on his feet, not knowing what he could possibly do in this situation, only that he wished to defend Annabelle with his whole heart from whatever was assailing her, whether Stephen or her own unhappiness.

It was, however, too late for that too. Within seconds, the heavy doors swung open again and Annabelle entered the church on her brother’s arm to a sigh of approbation and murmurs of general approval from around the congregation gathered there.

Everyone could see how very beautiful Annabelle was today, and how well chosen her outfit was to match her figure and coloring. Only Frederick, however, still behind his pillar, seemed to perceive the utter desolation on her lovely face and the way her bluebell eyes were anxiously scanning the pews ahead of her, as if looking desperately for something, or someone.

Maybe he saw only what he wanted to see? This doubt vanished almost as soon as it rose upon noticing the blue sapphire necklace at her throat – his mother’s sapphires, which he had gifted to Annabelle with so little ceremony, but so very much unspoken meaning. She knew, surely… Annabelle must know that he loved her?

“Annabelle,” he called out fiercely, striding into the aisle behind the pair now halfway to the altar. “Annabelle!”

“Frederick?” she responded instantly, looking around wildly and then turning to face him despite Stephen hissing something at her. “Frederick!”

The organ fell silent and the occupants of the pews began to whisper and murmur with mingled disapproval and salacious glee, all eyes now trained on the Duke of Heartwick and his every word likely to be relayed across the ton and maybe across England by sunset.

Despite the attention, the joy on Annabelle’s face as she met his eyes meant that no one else’s opinions or actions mattered. He would speak as he pleased, to her alone.

“I can’t let you do this, Annabelle. I can’t let you marry someone else without telling you that I love you. I didn’t want to tell you here, now, like this, and I never wanted to hurt you, but I never knew how to begin.”

“Oh, Frederick,” Annabelle said with shining eyes, tears falling onto her cheeks but apparently tears of happiness.

She began to walk towards him and when Stephen reached out a restraining arm, she struck him in the chest with her bouquet in irritation and then stuffed the unwanted flowers into Stephen’s hands before continuing on her way.

Lord Emberly stood unmoving in a little puddle of fallen petals, his face a picture of utter bemusement and dismay. A young woman nearby laughed and Frederick heard her inquire to a friend whether this scene meant that Lord Emberly would be the next to the altar.

From the present altar, Lord Darrington gazed at Frederick with amused and appreciative eyes, his mouth curved in a baffling smile. It was not at all the expression Frederick would have expected to see on the face of a man whose bride has just been publicly importuned by another lover. Beside Oswald Quince, Captain Rawlings’ seemed to share the same strange joke as his friend.

There was no time to figure out what this jest might be because Annabelle was in front of him now, and her hands were somehow in his.

“You fool, Frederick Hayward,” she murmured. “Don’t you know that I have always loved you? Yet you wait until here, today, to speak to me. You utter fool!”

To scandalized gasps from the crowd, his petite beloved stood up on her toes and kissed him rather chastely on the lips, as she had once kissed him in the drawing room at Heartwick Hall when he was pretending to both of them that he was teaching her to flirt.

With the further gasps and guffaws at the drama unfolding, Stephen’s face darkened and Frederick saw him begin to make a move down the aisle. Readying himself for a confrontation, he also thankfully saw Duchess Sarah step out from a pew and intercept Lord Emberly before he could get any closer, whispering something earnest to him while grasping his arm.

With the aisle clear, Frederick and Annabelle now had a clear view of Oswald Quince and Jacob Rawlings at the altar, both now openly grinning.

“How can he so easily let you go?” Frederick marveled under his voice, fighting down a strange urge to smile back at the two men as though they were all co-conspirators of some sort.

Annabelle again stood on her toes, but this time it was only to whisper something quietly in Frederick’s ear, shaking the foundations of his understanding but also making the world fall further into its proper place.

“I have been blind,” he acknowledged – as blind as any callow and unpracticed youth in love, despite his extensive experience of bedroom matters.

It was obvious once Annabelle confirmed it that something deeper lay between Lord Darrington and Captain Rawlings. It had been signified not only by the matched masks they wore at Lord Blackwell’s party, or Lord Blackwell’s later amusement at Frederick’s unnecessary jealousy, but also by the constant companionship of the two men and they way they looked at one another before the altar with affection and common understanding.

Now enlightened and relieved, Frederick did return Lord Darrington’s smile. With his eyes, Oswald directed Frederick’s gaze to Stephen being temporarily held in conversation with the Dowager Duchess of Heartwick and then mouthed one word to the errant lovers.

“Run!”

With a smothered laugh of both excitement and anxiety, Annabelle took Frederick’s arm and flashed her eyes up to his with urgency and mischief.

“Oswald is right, Frederick. We really can’t stay here now, can we?”

In full agreement, Frederick laughed too before they turned together and raced out of the church.